


Stories and Songs

by leusignac (Golbez)



Series: In Good Company [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Crystal Exarch is a NERD, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Guydelot's Legacy, Handholding, Hanging Out, Memories, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), POV Third Person Limited, Romantic Friendship, Singing, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 05:02:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19805287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Golbez/pseuds/leusignac
Summary: "The books I can see and read myself if I wanted to, but—can you sing the songs for me?"There is no one who knows every story and song about the Warrior of Light better than the Crystal Exarch.





	Stories and Songs

**Author's Note:**

> I can't seem to write about my Warrior of Light if it's not from someone else's POV. Ah well. *hops onto the Exarch/WoL train*

"This one was a favorite," said the Exarch as he handed the memoir of one Lord Edmont de Fortemps to the Warrior of Darkness.

Corio's brow rose as she accepted the well-worn book and flipped to a random page. She scanned the words in silence, moving only to tuck away a lock of her dark, white-streaked hair. The Exarch held still, refraining from fidgeting, but he was sure his irrational worry, which rose in him out of nowhere, showed on his exposed face.

"I didn't know," she murmured after a moment, "I suppose I'll have to thank Lord Edmont for telling others of my adventures when I return to Ishgard."

The worry fled from him, and the Exarch offered her a smile. "It is one of the many accounts that kept the people of my time together."

She shut the book, lifting her gaze to him, something burning in her eyes.

"I never thought—until I heard what you told Urianger in this room," she said, voice wavering, "I just never gave any thought to what people would think of me in the future."

"You needn't worry about it any longer, if you don't want to," said the Exarch, gently reaching for the book. She made no effort to hold onto it, and he turned away with it to place it atop the nearest pile of other books...all about her. So perhaps he needed to reorganize a little. "Your legacy was one of hope and light in a time of despair and darkness. I have no doubts it will continue to be that way this time."

She flushed from his words, and he had to bite back his grin. Her lengthy, fluffy tail swished behind her, betraying her elation to him. Corio turned away and made a show of feigning interest in the desk beside her, though she seemed startled once she realized all the books there were her stories as well.

"Just how many of these do you have?" she asked, then shook her head. "No, maybe I don't want to know the answer to that."

He chuckled and strode closer, though still he kept a distance between them. No matter how close she stood near him nowadays, no matter how much she insisted there were no barriers between them now, still he felt it was...wrong and unworthy of him to assume familiarity with her.

"Even after your death, they wrote about you. In the midst of the chaos..." he stopped, noting her darkening expression. Of course, such a fact would slip so easily from him when he'd lived with it for so long. He lowered his gaze, guilt immediately eating at him. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's just." She shook her head again, stepping closer to him. "It's not everyday I've had to confront...that. I died in your reality and, I can't even imagine...I can't imagine what it was like for you. To live with it for so long."

It was tempting to raise his hood, to retreat to the mysterious stranger he had been, but he knew Corio would never let him do that again. She insisted on calling him by name, much to the bewilderment of his people, and...even now, she was shuffling closer to him, tail shyly curling, gaze low, ears alert atop her head. His own ear flicked as he tried to keep his expression even. Ah, how he'd come to rely upon his hood so much.

"The stories kept me going," he said quickly, "The songs in particular always brought me cheer, as much as it did the people."

"Songs?" repeated Corio, stepping back to a more comfortable distance. "I did wonder about that. The books I can see and read myself if I wanted to, but—can you sing the songs for me?"

Any pretense of stoicism immediately fled the Exarch, as he openly gazed at her in surprise. Sing for her? The songs _about her?_ A distant memory came to him, of a lazy afternoon between forays into the Crystal Tower, of he and her and her twin in a comfortable pile under the boughs somewhere in the Black Shroud, and he, a young man at the time, singing for them some long-forgotten melody.

She, in the present, was looking at him with bright, expectant eyes, eagerly waiting. It wouldn't be the first time he sang for her, no, but that had been a different time and place, and he had been a different person himself. Surely there was some way out of this—?

"G'raha?"

His heart fluttered, as it did every time she said his name. He drew in a breath and did his best to rein in the emotion surely storming across his face. "Yes, of course, the songs. There were several, but I can...perform one of them for you, if you'll give me a moment. Perhaps have a seat."

Corio seemed satisfied by this, nodding and hurrying to the same chair he'd once sat Urianger in. How long ago that was now, when he bore still the hopes and dreams of the people of his own time. He thought to the lifting of that weight that had been on his shoulders, first by an ilm when he'd confided in Urianger, then entirely when everything had turned out for the better. He thought of the desperation, the fear, the acceptance that he would be the only one left of his timeline, how even that would fade away with his death. He thought of these, and the memory brought back with it singing alone to himself in the Ocular.

He knew every song about the Warrior of LIght by heart, but to be asked so suddenly to sing one when he'd not done so for this long was just a little uncomfortable. Still, he'd said he would sing now, so he would.

The Exarch picked at random, the lyrics and melody coming to his lips with familiar ease. It was one of his favorites, for it told of events that had happened shortly after he'd sealed the tower. The Warrior of Light and the Crystal Braves, the Warrior of Light and the Sultana of Ul'dah, the Warrior of Light to Ishgard came. He watched the very subject of the song as he sang, watching her beam at him, before closing her eyes for a moment and sighing. Perhaps she was lost in memory of those painful adventures herself.

He finished with a flourish and a bow, the song ending on its hopeful note of further adventures, of clearing her name. Corio clapped, though he could see her widening smile was not quite in her eyes.

"I liked that," she said. "I guess the songs weren't all about my best moments."

He winced, perhaps it hadn't been the best choice, but... "I prefer them to the glory-filled ones, you know."

"Oh?" Her brow rose, and she offered him a teasing grin. "So you prefer my embarassing adventures? I'll remember that."

"N-no, of course not," stammered out the Exarch, wanting desperately to put up his hood now. "Those were simply the songs that...that reminded me of our time together the most. Of the you I knew."

Corio fell quiet, gazing at him now with such an unexpected intensity. She was still, her ears standing alert as ever, even her tail was unmoving. Her gaze was such that he found himself faltering. Had he said something wrong?

"Oh G'raha..." she murmured—again, that fluttering—as she stood and strode to him. She took his still-flesh hand, and he froze as she squeezed it tight. Though she seemed to mean it in comfort, the handholding was still...unexpected. "You don't have to rely on songs to know me anymore."

The Exarch made a noise, he...wasn't sure what exactly, frozen as he was from feeling the warmth of her hand in his. She'd taken her gauntlets off to handle the books more gently, and he could feel not only the warmth, but every toughened ilm of her skin from a decade of honing her fists. It was a long moment before he managed words again.

"Yes, of course, I know that," he said, squeezing her hand back. The contact was not uncomfortable. "Perhaps I ought to write the songs down before they fade from my memory. Although I admit I'd not know how to commit anything but the words to paper."

"I can help with that," she said, and again her tail swished. She seemed content to keep holding his hand. "I trained as a Bard for a while, you know."

"...No, I didn't know that," he admitted. It was curious how little had been written of her other disciplines, such that he'd been surprised when he learned she'd all but officially joined some of the facets of the Crystalline Mean. "Now you'll simply have to sing for me too."

"Sounds like a fair trade to me," she said. Then she paused, and tilted her head in a gesture he'd come to understand was inquisitive. "Now that I think about it, the lyrical style and composition of what you sang is oddly familiar. You wouldn't happen to know who wrote it, would you?"

"Hm...there were two minstrels credited with writing the vast majority of songs about you." The Exarch had to admit that he hadn't spent as much time studying the authors of her tales than the subject of them herself, but he was confident in his passable knowledge at least. "One was a traveler who remained anonymous even after his death. The other was a Gridanian fellow, a Guydelot...ah, though I've heard it said the styles vary enough there might have been two different people writing in the latter's case..."

He trailed off, as he suddenly realized she had let go of his hand and was not quite paying attention. Corio was lost deep in thought for the moment.

" _Guydelot,_ " she said finally, quietly. She was smiling to herself, and at him. "His songs get passed down through the generations then...oh, he'd love that. If only I could tell him that...though I'm sure we'd never hear the end of it, if I did."

"You know him?" Perhaps he shouldn't be surprised. It only made sense, the songs were intimately familiar with her character beyond her adventures. 

"I trained with him," she said. "He's like a brother to me...oh, I wonder if he wrote about our journey through Dravania." 

Corio went on, but the Exarch was only half-listening, distracted instead by the quickening beat in his chest. It was wonderful, truly, to hear of her adventures firsthand, but jealousy flared dangerously—no, no, unacceptable. The Crystal Exarch did not feel that way about his friend's friends.

"What of the other minstrel?" he blurted out, interrupting her. She blinked in surprise, annoyance flittering across her face briefly and making him wish he hadn't done that. Still, she quickly looked thoughtful.

"I have a fair guess who that is," she said, frowning, ears drooping. "A Hingan minstrel...though he's never bothered to give me his name. If I might guess—songs attributed to him are my most gloriously embellished fights against primals."

"Ah...you have the right of it," he said. He'd never questioned how fanciful those particular songs were, but now the Exarch could see what she meant. "I suppose such exaggerations are unavoidable."

"Maybe so," she said, then shook her head. She paused, looking around at the books surrounding them. "Well, why don't I sing you that song right now?"

"Now?" He blinked, and he could not help the excitement blooming in him and openly showing on his face. He'd thought perhaps it would be something for a later time, but he was not opposed at all to it. "I did promise you my entire day, so..."

"Ah, then I'd better go get my harp from my room!"

And before he could say anything, Corio had bound out of his study, her gait betraying her own excitement. The Exarch watched her go, a grin creeping onto his face, even as he clung onto the sensation of now-faded warmth from her hand in his. How nice it would be, he thought, to grasp her hands in his after her performance.

**Author's Note:**

> This entire fic started with the question "What if the songs passed down in the Exarch's world about WoL were written by Guydelot?"


End file.
